Kinjirareta Ai: Discovery
by Ogino Miyuki
Summary: This is my first fanficcie! It's an uberfluffy shounenai story that focuses on my fan character, Hayao Watanabe, and chronicles his romance with the everdepressed Remy. Rated T for the occasional bit of language here and there, and a VERY fluffy scene.
1. Pop Songs and Metal Men

Obligatory Disclaimer: No, I don't own Street Fighter or any of the characters therein.

Chapter One

"You only see what your heart wants to see…"

Hayao was singing his heart out, as usual. Tokyo was just the same as it was a year and a half ago when he left for America…for Harvard…for opportunities. Hayao missed this place, and he missed singing.

"How can life be what you want it to be…"

This American music was new and strange to the people in the Rock and Sake Bar that night. They had never heard anything like this, and this purple-haired boy was enthralling. His voice rang with passion and vivacity, and his body swayed with the beat of the song.

"You're frozen…when your heart's not open…"

Two Women were eyeing Hayao voluptuously from the corner of the bar, even more captivated than the rest of the crowd. As he finished the song, they cheered loudest of all.

Hayao packed up his microphone and sat down at the bar.

"I'll have a glass of your finest sake. It's been a while."

The bartender grinned and within the span of a minute, a small glass full of strong rice wine was sitting in front of the green-eyed lounge singer. He drank slowly and thoughtfully, savoring this long-awaited taste, sighing happily.

The two Women that had watched him so intently approached him, stroking his shoulder gently. Hayao turned to them with a smile.

"Hi there…may I help you Ladies?"

The two diminutive Japanese Girls giggled. "Umm…you're really good…" one of them said.

"Well, thank you!" Hayao chuckled. "Always nice to find someone who likes my singing. I don't get much time to sing anymore…I'm on break from college."

"Uh-huh…" The other Girl just stared at him, and then slowly produced a slip of paper from the folds of her kimono.

"Here…is my number."

Hayao took it and smiled awkwardly. "Umm…thanks?" He finished his sake and got up to leave.

"Wait! Will you call me?" the Girl asked his retreating back.

Hayao stopped, looked at the paper, then to the Girl. He grinned. "…Maybe."

He exited the bar to the sound of infectious giggling.

As he walked through the alley behind the bar, his blue shirt blew in the wind. It was decorated with faded pictures of the constellations of the Zodiac. Hayao was an astrologer, and believed that great power could be drawn from celestial bodies.

Hayao wasn't looking where he was going, and bumped into a very tall man in a beige trench coat and fedora.

"Oh…sorry!" Hayao tried to make his way around this stranger. Every time, the man blocked his path.

"Hey! Move it!" Hayao looked up at this person. But it…couldn't be a _person..._That face! Was it…metal? Before Hayao could react, the metal man had grabbed him by the face with a mammoth gloved hand and thrown him onto the floor of the alley. Hayao leapt to his feet and assumed his stance, gently crossing his arms across his chest. He wasn't helpless. He could take care of himself…or so he thought.  
Hayao launched himself at his attacker feet first, kicking rapidly. "Capricorn Kick!" he cried. The attacker grabbed hold of Hayao's foot and swung him into the wall of a building. Hayao gasped as air rapidly escaped his lungs. He fell to the ground, but rose again.

"Sagittarius!" he shouted, throwing a bolt of celestial energy from his hand. His assailant parried it with ease, countering with a dashing strike to Hayao's head. Hayao couldn't take the strain of the blow. He spun about from the recoil, and then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The attacker placed his foot on Hayao's head and readied himself to press, but suddenly a ring of energy flew in from the street. It struck the attacker square between the eyes and sent him flying. The attacker growled metallically, then turned around and walked slowly away.

Hayao didn't know what happened. But he soon felt two hands underneath him, one on his upper back, one supporting his legs. These hands…they were rough and firm…but Hayao found them intensely comforting. He subconsciously reached up and wrapped his arms around his rescuer's neck. This made his mysterious savior stop for a moment, but they continued on soon enough.


	2. A Mixed Confrontation

Obligatory Disclaimer: I STILL don't own Street Fighter or any of its characters.

Chapter Two

"Uhhh…."

Hayao struggled to open his eyes. When they finally did open, he realized he was looking straight up at the ceiling, judging by the fan blades spinning clumsily in front of his eyes. He took a while to register what was going on. He didn't know where he was. He gasped. _Where am I? _he thought, thoroughly worried.

"You were out a while," said a voice to Hayao's left.

Hayao looked to the source of the firm, commanding voice. It came from a tall, thin man with pale skin and neon blue hair that fell over half of his face and onto his shoulders. He was dressed in a black leather jacket with the Greek omega adorning the collar, baggy red pants, and brown shoes. Hayao looked at this man with contempt.

"What the hell is this? Where the hell am I?" He tried to sit upright, but cried out in pain and fell back down. The man rushed to his side.

"No…don't sit up. He broke two of your ribs, judging by the feel of your stomach."

Hayao settled into the bed he was in. He sighed. This man meant him no harm. He'd saved his life.

"Who was that guy?" he asked.

"He is known only as Q," his rescuer responded. "He travels the world looking for fighters in whom he sees potential, and challenges them by taking the first swing. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he doesn't."

Hayao frowned. "He was too good for me. Oh well…at least I have potential." He looked up to this mysterious man in black. "What's your name, blue?"

The man almost smiled. "Remy…my name's Remy."

"Remy…that's a beautiful name. I'm Hayao…Hayao Watanabe. Nice to meet you…and thank you." Hayao smiled at Remy in a friendly manner.

"I'm sorry about this, but you'll have to stay here until you heal," Remy said. "I can't let you back out on the street with a clean conscience."

"Well, I can heal myself. Just let me stand." Hayao sat up, cringing. Remy placed his hand lightly on Hayao's chest, pushing him gently back down.

"No…you'll hurt yourself."

"Sometimes, Remy, things have to get worse before they get better." Hayao lightly pushed Remy's hand away and struggled to his feet. He could hardly stand up straight, and tears formed in his eyes. He managed to stand completely upright, though, and raised his hands skyward.

"Aquarius! Water of Life!" he proclaimed. Remy looked at him skeptically, until a flow of blue, almost liquid light descended from above and bathed Hayao in its glow. Hayao smiled as the celestial energy mended his broken bones and healed his many bruises. As the technique was complete, Hayao breathed slowly as Remy watched in awe.

"That was amazing…" he breathed.

Hayao grinned shyly. "Great power can be drawn from the heavens, Remy. It can heal almost any wound, provided the wounded one can stand up and call upon the water bearer to do so…"

Remy looked at him blankly. "You're…an astrologer."

Hayao smiled and blushed a bit. "That's right. I have been for years…"

Remy scowled. "You must be one of _them…_you call yourself a 'warrior,' don't you?"

Hayao scoffed. "Of course not! I'm not a warrior. There's no point in fighting to me besides sport…I fight, but only as a pastime or in self-defense…as was the situation with Q…I don't like to fight with any malicious intent, but sometimes I must. You understand, don't you, blue?"

This time Remy did smile. "Yes…I do. I know exactly what you mean." He straightened himself up.

"I haven't seen you around here…but judging by your face, your accent, and your name, you are Japanese, right?"

Hayao nodded.

"So…where do you live? Osaka? Hiroshima?"

Hayao shook his head with a forlorn look. "No…Cambridge. I was born and raised here in Tokyo…I wanted to sing, that's what I wanted to do with my life."

"What changed?" Remy asked, interested.

"I realized that there's no money in being a singer. Most musicians are destitute for their whole lives. So I decided to go to America, and to Harvard University…I'm going to become a lawyer."

Remy chuckled. "You don't look like a lawyer, Hayao …you don't even look like someone who _wants_ to be a lawyer."

Tears filled Hayao's eyes. "I…I don't! But it's my place in the world to be one. It's my fate. I want to bring money to my family…and support a lover someday…" He was flat-out sobbing now. "Don't you see, blue? It doesn't matter what I want to do! Dreams don't come true! Miracles…don't exist!"

Remy remained calm and indifferent. "So…what if something incredible happens? What if, for example, you find the love of your life while vacationing in France or something?"  
Hayao sighed between jagged breaths. "I'd…have to move on. I guess I'd write this person, whoever they may be…but I'd eventually get over it."   
"No… Hayao, that's infatuation you're talking about. What I'm speaking of is love. True, incorruptible, everlasting love. The kind of love that lasts you for life." Remy looked down at the floor, his hair falling over his face and obscuring it.

"Well, I've never experienced anything like that…" Hayao looked straight down as well, the tears falling off the edge of his small nose and onto the wooden floor.

"What about you, blue?" he asked without looking up. "You ever felt true love? For anyone?"

"Well, do the math, Hayao," Remy snapped. "If I had experienced true love, then I'd probably be with this person, wouldn't I? I'd be a lot happier, yes? Now look at me!"

Hayao looked directly into Remy's cold, sad eyes. There was a lot of pain in those eyes…loneliness…regret. Hayao found the look in Remy's eyes borderline disturbing.  
"Do I look happy to you?"

Hayao was still breathing haphazardly, and emotionally exhausted from this whole experience. He looked away from Remy and started to cry softly again.

"I…I must be going...Thank you so much, Remy, for saving my life, and it was wonderful to meet you."

Hayao walked swiftly out of the small house and into the back alley to which it was connected. After he left, Remy looked closely at the floor. It was still stained with Hayao's tears.

Remy looked at those tears for a long time.


	3. An Intriguing Offer

Disclaimer of Obligatorynessness: Now and forever, I do not own Street Fighter or any of its many, many characters.

Chapter Three

Days passed. Hayao sang in a different karaoke bar every night, wowing the crowd everywhere he went. For some strange reason, his thoughts often dwelled on the tall, blue-haired Remy, and he shuddered when this happened. Remy was so…so sad, so chilling in his mannerisms…so why did Hayao find him so _alluring?_ Knowing how sad Remy seemed to be in life made Hayao realize that his problems weren't as lamentable as he originally thought…and that made Hayao feel better about himself. Was that kind of schadenfreude going to get him fucked one day? Oh well. No use worrying about it.

Hayao went back to the Rock and Sake six days after he had sang there and had met Remy. When he was a child, this little place was where he went for the best edamame and to watch the singers at the karaoke machine. It was they that had inspired Hayao to become a singer.

Hayao sat down in the same barstool he'd occupied the last time he was there, though he didn't know it. He sat there for a good twenty minutes, eating various forms of sushi and tempura, and was thoroughly full by the time he heard the door to the bar open. The man who walked in sat down at the bar next to Hayao. Hayao looked to his left, and quickly gasped and jerked his head back to his food.

It was Remy.

The two men sat side by side for about five or ten minutes without acknowledging each other's presence. It was almost eleven p.m. before Remy spoke.

"Don't you realize that the path you are taking will lead you nowhere?"

Hayao quickly looked away from Remy.

"I told you before…it doesn't matter what's good for me," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I mustn't be so self-centered…The world doesn't revolve around one person, blue."

"The world may not revolve around you, Hayao …but you still matter." Remy nursed a glass of whisky, caressing the edge of the glass with his lips.

Hayao looked at Remy, astonished. No one had ever told him that before.

"Who are you to say that?"

"Someone who knows that everyone matters." Remy said matter-of-factly. "When someone ceases to live, the whole world is affected…especially those close to them."

Hayao sighed. "Well, aren't those noble sentiments."

Remy rose and motioned for Hayao to follow. "Come on."

"Wh…where are we going?" Hayao asked, puzzled.

"My house. We really should talk…" Remy walked out of the bar nonchalantly. Hayao sighed and followed suit, not bothering to wonder what was going to happen.

Hayao caught up with Remy and they walked side by side, saying nothing. Hayao felt so small in comparison to this tall, morose man striding next to him, but he kept walking, looking up occasionally.

Remy's house was built into the side of a large building. Remy flipped a key from his pocket and deftly opened the door.

The house was drab, but had a homely touch to it that appealed to Hayao. The floors were made of a simple wood, and the walls were painted a plain shade of tan. Remy tossed his keys onto the table and motioned for Hayao to enter. The young student kicked off his shoes and entered with a bow. Remy smirked at this.  
"So..." Hayao said tentatively. "You're...not Japanese, are you? Not with that name. Where are you from?"  
"France, actually," came the reply. "I don't really live here. I'm a nomad. This house was given to me by someone..."  
Hayao tilted his head to one side. "May I ask who?"  
Remy chuckled. "Kicker is...I don't know. Some weird Lady with a crooked haircut gave me the deed one day. Just...out of the blue." He gestured to a hallway across the living room.  
"First door on the left...you can stay there."  
Hayao double-taked slightly.  
"What did you say?"  
"You can stay here if you want. I mean...it's cheaper than a hotel, isn't it?" Remy looked at Hayao, his teal eyes glowing a bit.  
Hayao nodded. "...I'd like that, Remy...thank you."  
"No problem. Make yourself at home." Remy walked out of the room without another word.  
Hayao watched him leave, then looked all around him.  
Who the hell IS this guy?


	4. An Extraordinary Girl

Disclaimer That Is Getting Freaking Old: I don't own Street Fighter. Nor its characters. The legal system irks me.

Chapter Four

Several days passed when Hayao saw neither hide nor heel of Remy. He was always out of the house, and when he wasn't, Hayao was. Remy often simply sat on his living room couch for hours at a time while Hayao was out singing. Remy would, under normal circumstances, be reading Sun Tzu's _The Art of War. _Remy hated warriors with a passion, but...he did long to understand their logic. To identify with these people...is the first step toward re-education.  
A rare passing of the two occured when Hayao's summer break was already two weeks down. The Japanese boy had just gotten back to Remy's house, and...there he was, lying on the couch. Not reading, though...just staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.  
Remy's line of vision was obstructed suddenly by a bright, chipper face and a full, bushy head of purple hair.  
"Hey there!" Hayao said with a smile. "Where've you been, blue?"  
Remy sighed lightly.  
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Hayao."  
With that, he rose, crossing the hall and entering his room, leaving Hayao to sit on the couch himself, pouting.  
"That jerk..."  
Hayao laid helter-skelter on Remy's sofa for about an hour, then looked the other way as Remy left his bedroom, running a hand through his long teal hair. Just before Remy got to the door, however, he stopped, turning to face Hayao.  
"Listen, Hayao...I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just...I'm not a very social person. I don't want to scare you, and I don't want to upset you. I...I'm sorry."  
Hayao flipped over the arm of the couch, facing Remy with a friendly smile.   
"Don't worry about it, blue. I figured you were just having one of those days. Happens to the best of us." He clapped Remy on the shoulder lightly, which made Remy chuckle.  
"Thank you...you're very understanding. Now, I must be going. And...if you want to know, I go out every night to fight. I'm trying to understand... their mindset."  
Hayao instantly understood this. "Oh! I see...re-education and such, right?"  
Remy smiled again. "Yes...yes, that's right. I'll see you tomorrow."   
And with that, he was gone.  
Hayao stared at the door for a while, amazed that Remy had actually taken the time to say anything to him. He then decided to find another bar and sing his heart out, as per the norm.  
At Horinoya, a well-known sushi/karaoke place, Hayao sang softly, a slow, melancholy song. It had a romantic feel to it, though, so it seemed Hayao's style.  
"...shiama se de..." he finished, bowing neatly.  
As he left the stage to wild applause, a Girl approached him. She was...odd-looking, but only because she looked foreign. Her skin had a chocolate hue to it, and her hair was a tad short. It gleamed snowy white, and almost made Hayao squint.  
"Hey...I like your singing. It's good to dance to!" she said, her voice having a tinge of an Australian accent to it.  
Hayao smiled warmly, giggling. "Thank you! I always like people to dance when I sing!" He extended a hand to her.  
"I'm Hayao Watanabe! What's your name?"  
"...Elena." She giggled as well, taking his hand and gently moving up and down. Second nature to humans now. Hayao sometimes wondered about that.  
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Elena." Hayao bowed lightly, releasing Elena's warm hand.  
"So...Heard you know how to fight, Hayao." Elena tossed her white hair behind her head, only to have it fall over her eyes again.  
Hayao shrugged. "I dabble."  
Elena giggled at this. "Think you're up for a match?"  
Hayao looked at Elena blankly. "You think you could fight me? I mean...I might get hurt!"  
Elena smiled, gently punching Hayao's shoulder.  
"Oh come on, dear, you can do it."  
Hayao smiled happily, taking Elena's hand.  
"Alright then! We'll find an alley or something..."  
"Or a roof." Elena pulled Hayao by the hand up the stairs of the bar and to the moonlit roof.  
The two stood on the top of the building for a second, then Hayao gasped in shock as Elena pulled her shirt and skirt from her, revealing a two-piece bikini...or something of the sort. Elena began to step lithely back and forth in rhythm, and she motioned for Hayao.  
"Come on, dear!" she said with a laugh.  
Hayao looked at her for a second, then realized what she was doing.  
"Ah! You're a Capoeira Girl, huh?" He assumed his stance as well, and nodded to Elena.  
"Let's go!"  
Elena giggled, then flung herself at Hayao feet-first with remarkable speed.  
"Rhino HORN!" she cried, as Hayao stepped nimbly aside and countered with a rising chop attack, dubbed the Orion Slash, which sent Elena packing. She leaped to her feet, then assaulted Hayao with kicks as he was forced into the defensive. He blocked, dodged, parried, and then ducked, sweeping Elena to the ground with a confident laugh. He leaped back, taunting Elena playfully with a slightly Girlish pose.  
"You can do it!" he said. This seemed to spur Elena on, as she flicflaced to Hayao, delivering a sharp kick to his chin. Hayao flew into the air, spun about, regained his balance, and readied one of his better attacks. He summoned an incredible amount of celestial power, then released it in the form of several arrows which rained down on Elena.   
"Sagittarius Volley!"  
Elena couldn't handle the energy attacks that Hayao delivered. She let each of the ten bolts hit her face, chest, and legs, then crumpled to the ground, out cold.  
Hayao fell to the ground quickly, running to the unconscious Elena.  
"Oh no...! Miss Elena! Are you alright?" Hayao groaned. "I must have been too rough! I better get you to a hospital!" Hayao took the tall, long-legged African into his arms, walking back into the bar and outside.

"Ohh..." Elena came to slowly, looking about her as she did so.  
Where was she? White walls, weird-smelling bedsheets, a steady beeping nearby her...ah!  
"I'm in...a hospital?"  
A doctor walked to Elena's bed, smiling warmly.  
"Well, now, Miss Elena. Didn't expect you to come around so soon!"  
"How long?" the Capoeira Princess asked.  
"Just six hours, actually." The doctor straightened her coat, taking Elena's hand.  
"You'll be fine. I think there's someone who wants to see you!"  
Elena progressed into the waiting room, where Hayao was leaning against a pillar, sleeping. Elena giggled and cleared her throat, which made Hayao jerk awake. He smiled brightly when he saw her, approaching her.  
Elena was flabbergasted. "You took me to a hospital...and waited for me?"  
Hayao nodded. "I couldn't rightly leave you, could I? Oh!" He handed Elena a paper bag.  
"It's your uniform. Figured you wouldn't want to go out on the street in a bikini."  
Elena smiled, brushing a tear from her eyes. "That's so kind of you!"  
Hayao shook his head. "It was nothing...but I have to go now, Elena. I hope I see you soon."  
Elena leaned forward, kissing Hayao's cheek.   
"I hope this moment of friendship will bring you many happy memories."


	5. Old School's Still Got It

Freaking Annoying Disclaimer: I don't own Street Fighter or any of the characters, nor will I ever.

Chapter Five

The bell rang for the fifth time that night, and a new fight was on. The reigning champion of that night's event was a bizzare man with bleach-white skin and limbs like rubber. He easily dispatched any competition, mostly playing a very good game of keep-away by punching and kicking from the other side of the cage. A man who looked of Caribbean descent fell to the floor of the ring, groaning before losing consciousness. The announcer didn't even waste time counting to ten. He simply approached the mutant and lifted his arm.

"And the winner again is...NECRO!"

As Remy moved silently among the crowd, he saw the defeated warrior being carried from the ring. His red training pants were tattered, but Remy could still make out the word "MAXIMUM" running down the sides of his legs.  
Necro struck a comical pose, vocalizing operatically before leaning against the side of the ring. Remy approached the fight announcer, passing the entry fee across the counter.

"I think I can take him."

The fight promoter shrugged, sighing. "Your funeral, buddy boy. What's your name?"

"Remy," the Frenchman replied. "Just Remy."

The promoter chuckled heartily, leading Remy to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen!" He rang the bell for attention.

"HERE COMES A NEW CHALLENGER!"

The mutant, Necro, laughed upon seeing Remy. "Hmph. Pretty-boy fighter. He doesn't even know what real combat is." He looked to Remy, nodding once. "Let's get it on!"

"Remy vs. Necro!" the announcer shouted. "Fighters, ready!" He raised his hand, striking the bell.

"ENGAGE!"

"Your judgement is at hand!" Remy dashed at Necro, who tried to throw his rubber arm toward the man's face. Remy dodged it, grabbing Necro's arm and trying to snap it with his knee. Necro laughed at this futile attempt.

"Don't waste my time, Frenchie! Just give up before you get hurt!"

Remy's eyes burned with anger as he looked at Necro from behind a wall of teal tresses.

"What...did you just call me?" He rushed Necro at this, pummeling him with a series of devastating strikes that targeted weaker areas of the body, such as the throat, solar plexus, and groin. At being struck in the latter area, Necro screamed out loud. He may have been a mutant, but dammit, he still had balls!

Remy grabbed Necro, throwing him into the air and jumping back. He pulled back his arm, and glowed for a moment.

"EI NIMURE!" he shouted, throwing nine of the same ring-shaped projectiles that had saved Hayao on the night they'd met. Necro was smacked and twisted about in all directions by the energy attack, and fell to the floor in a tangled mess of bleached flesh.

"Oh, goodness, Necro is down! One!" The fight promoter began to count.

"Two!"

Remy sighed, posing a bit. "Why are you doing this?" he asked Necro. "What is it that makes you fight?"

"Three! Four! Five!" the announcer continued. Necro showed no signs of moving.

Remy, upon getting no response from the mutant, sighed a bit. "I thought so...you don't know, do you?"

"Six! Seven! EIGHT! NINE!" The announcer raised a hand before reciting the final number.

"...TEN!" The bell chimed.  
"That's it! It's all over, folks! The winner is...REMY!" He grabbed Remy's hand, thrusting it into the air. "Such a glorious victory, Remy! How do you feel?"

Remy jerked his hand from the announcer's grasp, scoffing.

"Victory, glory, and honor...Those ideas don't excite me a bit."

He stepped from the ring, collected his winnings, and was gone.

The street outside the fighting bar was well-lit, but Remy kept to the shadows to avoid letting anyone who saw the fight see him now. He didn't like the attention. He heard a voice call out to him...in English, oddly enough.

"Hey! Kid! Yeah, you, with the fruity blue hair!"

Remy stopped, but didn't look at the obviously American man standing twenty meters behind him.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked after a second or two.

"I saw you fighting in there." The American took a few steps towards Remy, who didn't seem to pay him any mind.

"Who the hell taught you that style!" The man seemed genuinely concerned.

Remy groaned, brushing some hair from his face.

"I taught myself. Why?"

"The hell you did! It took me years of training under all kinds of mentors..." The man stepped into the light, revealing a shockingly tall hairdo.

"...to learn that very same style!"

Remy turned around to face this man.

"Hmph." He shrugged. "You are American, are you not?"

"Yeah, I am. I learned that style you use in the American Special Forces." The man gave a menacing look to Remy. "I just wanted to tell you that of all the people I've seen use that style...you're easily the worst."

Remy snorted. "As if you could do any better with your precious 'training,' old man."

This made the American laugh out loud. "Well, why don't we just find out?" He looked around him. "No one on this street. We can have it out right now!" He assumed his stance, much more traditional than Remy's.

"Well? Are you man enough to fight with me?"

Remy tossed his hair back a bit, scoffing.

"Geh. Fine, if kicking your ass will get you out of my damn hair." He dove at the newcomer with a flying kick, which was parried and countered with a backflip-style kick that Remy often used, except this man apparently gave it a different name. "SOMERSAULT!"

Remy felt a reinforced combat boot strike him square beneath his chin, and he flew backward, landing on the ground in a heap. He rose slowly, dazed, but threw one of his ring attacks towards his assailant, who blocked it, yawning loudly.

"Here, junior. Let me show you how that attack is SUPPOSED to go!"

He threw both of his hands forward, throwing a similar projectile that was much larger.  
"SONIC BOOM!"

Remy tried to jump over the attack, but as he came back down, his assailaint simply threw another which hit Remy square in the face. Remy knelt a bit, feeling quite dizzy. His attacker laughed, dashing to him and flinging his arms forward, summoning a massive close-range energy technique in the process.

"SONIC HURRICANE!" he screamed. But Remy screamed much, much louder.

As Remy crumpled to the ground, nearing unconsciousness, the American knelt down beside him, laughing loudly.

"You've got a lot to learn before you beat me. Try again, kiddo!"

He rose, and Remy could hear that infuriating laugh echoing in his head until, finally, he slipped into a forced slumber.


End file.
